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OLORflDO RIVER 



•ARIZONA 



GRAND CANON 



COLOEADO EIYEE, 



ARIZONA. 



C. A. HIGdlXS. 

28 6 7 (> < 



With Original Illustkations by Thomas Moran, H. F. Farny and 
F. H. Lung HEN. 



PASSENGER DEPARTMENT SAN'I'A FE ROUTE, 



ClIICACK), 1S98. 



THE HENRY O. SHEPARD COMPANY, 

Printers and bookbinders, 
212-214 Monroe Street, Chicago. 






I. 

THE Colorado is one of the great rivers of North America. Formed in southern Utah by 
the conlluence of the Green and Grand, it intersects the nortliwestern corner of Arizona, and, 

becoming the eastern bonndary of Nevada and California, flows southward until it reaches 
tidewater in tlie Gulf of California, Mexico. It drains a territory of 300,000 square miles, and, 
traced back to the rise of its principal source, is 2,000 miles long. At two points, The Needles 
and Yuma, on the California boundary, it is crossed by a railroad. Elsewhere its course lies 
far from Caucasian settlements and far fi'om the routes of common travel, in the heart of a 
vast region fenced on the one hand by arid plains and on the other by formidable mountains. 
The early Spanish explorers first reported it to the civilized world in 1540, two separate 
expeditions becoming acquainted with the river for a comparatively short distance above its 
mouth, and another, journeying from the Moqui Puel)los northwestward across the desert, 
obtaining the first view of the Big Canon, failing in every effort to descend the cafion wall, 
and seeing the river only from afar. Again, in 1776, a Spanish priest traveling soutbward 
tln-ough Utah struck off from the Virgen River to the southeast and found a practicable 
crossing at a point that still bears the name " Vado de los Padres." For more than eighty 
years thereafter the Big Canon remained unvisited, except by the Indian, the Mormon herds- 
man and the trapper, although the Sitgreaves expedition of 1851, journeying westward, struck 
the Colorado about one hundred and fifty miles above Yuma, and Lieutenant Whipple in 
1854 made a survey for a practicable railroad route along the thirty-fiftli parallel, where the 
Atlantic and Pacific Railroad has since been constructed. The establishment of military posts 
in New Mexico and Utah having made desirable the use of a water-way for the cheap trans- 
portation of supplies, in 1857 the War Department dispatched an expedition in eharge of 
Lieutenant Ives to explore the Colorado as far from its mouth as navigation should be found 
practicable. Ives ascended the river in a specially constructed steamboat to the head of Black 
Canon, a few miles below the confluence of the Virgen River in Nevada, where further navi- 
gation became impossible ; then, returning to The Needles, he set off across the country toward 
the northeast. He reached the Big Canon at Diamond Creek and at Cataract Creek in the 
spring of 1858, and from the latter point made a wide southward detour around the San 
Francisco peaks, thence northeastward to the ]\Ioqui Pueblos, thence eastward to Fort Defiance 
and so back to civilization. 

That is the history of the explorations of the Colorado up to twenty-five years ago. Its 
exact course was unknown for many hundred miles, even its origin in the junction of the 
Grand and Green Rivers being a matter of conjecture, it being difficult to approaeh within a 
distance of two or three miles from the channel, wliile descent to the river's edge could be 
hazarded only at wide intervals, inasmuch as it lay in an appalling fissure at the foot of 
seemingly impassable cliff terraces that led down from the bordering i)lateau ; and an attempt 
at its navigation would have been courting deatb. It was known in a general way that the 



entire channel between Nevada and Utah was of the same titanic character, reaching its 
culmination nearly midway in its course throui^h Arizona. In 1869 Maj. J. W. Powell, now in 
charge of the United States Geological Survey, undertook the exploration of the river with 
nine men and four boats, starting from Green River City, on the Green River, in Utah. The 
enterprise met with the most urgent remonstrance from those who were best acquainted with 
the region, including the Indians, who maintained that boats could not possibly live in any 
one of a score of rapids and falls known to them, to say nothing of the vast unknown 
stretches in which at any moment a Niagara might be disclosed. It was also currently 
believed that for hundreds of miles the river disappeared wholly beneath the surface of the 
earth. Powell launched his flotilla on May 24, and on August 30 landed at the mouth of the 
Virgen River, more than one thousand miles by the river channel from the place of starting, 
minus two boats and four men. One of the men had left the expedition by way of an Indian 
reservation agency before reaching Arizona, and three, after holding out against unprecedented 
terrors for many weeks, had finally become daunted, choosing to encounter the perils of an 
unknown desert rather than to lirave any longer the frightful menaces of that Stygian torrent. 
These three, 'unfortunately making their appearance on the plateau at a time when a recent 
depredation Avas coloralily chargeable upon them, were killed by Indians, their story of having 
come thus far down the river in boats being wholly discredited by their captors. Powell's 
journal of the trip is a fascinating tale, w"ritten in a compact and modest style, which, in spite 
of its reticence, tells an epic story of purest heroism. It definitely established the scene of 
his exploration as the most wonderful geological and spectacular i>henomenon known to man- 
kind, and justified the name which had been bestowed upon it — The Grand Canon ^ 
sublimest of gorges; Titan of chasms. Many r3cientists have since visited it, and, in the 
aggregate, a considerable number of unprofessional lovers of nature; but until recently no 
definite appeal was made to the general sightseer, and the world's most stupendous panorama 
has been known princii^ally through report, by reason of the discomforts and dilliculties of 
the trip, which deterred all except the most indefatigable enthusiasts. Even its geographical 
location has been the sul)ject of widespread misajiprehension. As stated by Captain Dutton, 
in his "Tertiary History of the Grand Caiion District," its title has been pirated for api>lication 
to relatively insignificant canons in distant parts of the country, and thousands of tourists 
have been led to believe that they were viewing the Grand Caflon when, in fact, they looked 
upon a totally different scene, between which and the real Grand Canon there is no more 
comparison " than there is between the Alleghanies or Trosachs and the Himalayas " 

There is but one Grand Canon. Nowhere in human experience can its like be found. 



II. 

IT lies wholly in tlie northern part of Arizona. It is accessible from the north only at the 
cost of w'eeks of arduous travel, necessitating a special expedition with camp outfit and 
pack animals. On the south it is easily reached in a single day's journey l.)y stage from 
the town of Flagstaff, an important station on the Atlantic and Pacific Railroad, which is a 
division of the Santa Fe Route. There is no other railroad within a distance of several 
hundred miles. 

In May, 1892, a tri-weekly stage line was permanently established between Flagstaff and 
the Grand Caiion. The entire distance is sixty-five miles, and it is t-overed in less than twelve 
hours, by the aid of three relays. The route is nearly level, traversing the iilatform district 
which, taking name from the river, is known as the Colorado Plateau. The excellence of the 



roadway needs no other testimony than the fact that the jonrney eonsnnies so little time. For 
long stretches it is as hard and smooth as a bonlevard. The stage leaves Flagstaff in the morn- 
ing, reaches a comfortable dinner station at noon, and dejiosits its passengers at a permanent 
camp on the rim of the most impressive poilion of the Canon l)efore nightfall. The Canon 
camp is a tiny tent village, picturesqnely located in a ]>ark of tall pines. Each tent is floored, 
and furnished with bed, talile, chairs and other articles of comfort. Excellent meals are regnlarly 
provided. Pending the construction of more pretentious accommodations, which are in prospect, 
no more satisfactory provision for the needs of the visitor conld be desired. Elevated more than 
7,000 feet above sea-level, the air is pure and exhilarating, and the health-giving climate that is 
characteristic of the region, together with the charming environment of the pine forest, would 
make a week's stay at the Caiion camp a delightful and profitable outing, even were there no 
Grand Canon at hand. 

The stage returns from the Caiion to Flagstaff every other day, enabling tourists who are 
pressed for time, or transcontinental travelers on business intent, to obtain a view of this incom- 




MIDWAY STATION AT CEDAR RANCH. 



parable spectacle at the cost of little delay. If it is necessary to be satisfied with a few hours' 
inspection, one may return the following morning after arrival, and thus see the Grand Canon in 
but two days' absence from Flagstaff. While so superficial a view will reveal only a fraction of its 
protean splendors, it will prove an everlasting memory. 



III. 



THE journey to the Caiion is greatly diversified in interest. Plunging at once into one of the 
parks that are pt'culiar to Arizona — forests of pine free from undergrowth, streaked with sun- 
light and seductively carpeted with grass — for many miles the road closely skirts the splendid 
San Francisco peaks, emerging into open stretches where prairie dogs abound, again winding 
through rocky defiles, on past volcanic vent-lioles, in whose subterranean recesses tlie Cave 
Dwellers made their primitive home and where the hill slopes are thickly strewn with fragments 
of pottery ; past bare mountains of black cinder striped with red slag; over broad ranges where 
shee]) and cattle T)rowse and the tents of the herders gleam from the hillside where the infrequent 

9 



spring pours out its flow; threading the notches of slopes regularly set with cedar and i>inon; 
across gentle divides from whose summits the faint rosy hues of the Painted Desert may be seen 
in the northeast, and in the north the black jagged lines of mountain ranges indefinitely for 
away; then once more into the pines and down a short, steep descent to the terminus in a roman- 
tic glen near John Hance's cabin, some fifteen miles west of the confluence of the Little Colorado 
with the main river. 

In all the journey nothing has been encountered that could prepare the mind for trans- 
cendent scenery, save that in the last half mile two or three glimpses of what were guessed to be 
pinkish clifls far to right and left were shadowed fiiintly through the trees. And certainly there 
is nothing that portends the heroic in the sylvan scene where at last the traveler quits the stage. 
Small herbage and flowers of every hue grow at the foot of the pines, among pretty rock frag- 
ments of variegated color. Save for a single crag, whose gray crest barely tops the northward 
slope of the glen, a hundred yards away, there is no hint of any presence foreign to the peaceful 
air of a woodland glade, denizened by birds and squirrels, innocent even of the rumor of such a 
thing as the Grand Canon. The visitor, smitten with a sudden fear of bitter disappointment in 
store strides eagerly up the slope to put the vaunted Canon to the test. Without an instant's 
warning he finds himself upon the verge of an unearthly spectacle that stretches beneath his feet 
to the tiir horizon. Stolid is he, indeed, if he can front that awful scene without quaking knee or 
tremulous breath. 



IV. 



A 



N inferno, swathed in soft celestial fires; a whole chaotic under-world, just emptied of 
primeval floods and waiting for a new creative word ; a boding, terrible thing, unflinchingly 
real, yet spectral as a dream, eluding all sense of perspective or dimension, outstretching the 
faculty of measurement, overlapping the confines of definite apprehension. The beholder is at 
first unimpressed by any detail ; he is overwhelmed by the cuM'tiMc of a stupendous panorama, a 
thousand square miles in extent, that lies wholly l)eneath the eye, as if he stood upon a mountain 
peak instead of the level brink of a fearful chasm in the plateau whose opposite shore is thirteen 
miles away. A la)>yrinth of huge architectural forms, endlessly varied in design, fretted with 
ornamental devices, festooned with lace-like webs formed of talus from the upper clifls and 
painted with every color known to the palette in pure transparent tones of marvelous delicacy. 
Never was picture more harmonious, never flower more exquisitely beautiful. It flashes instant 
communication of all that architecture and painting and music for a thousand years have grop- 
ingly striven to express. It is the soul of JMichael Angelo and of Beethoven. 

A canon, truly, but not after the accepted type. An intricate system of canons, rather, all 
subordinate to the river channel in the midst, which in its turn is subordinate to the total 
effect. That river channel, the profoundest dei^th, and actually more than six thousand feet 
below the point of view, is in seeming a rather insignificant trench, attracting the eye more by 
reason of its somber tone and mysterious suggestion than by any appreciable characteristic of a 
chasm. It is nearly five miles distant in a straight line, and its uppermost rims are 3,000 feet 
beneath the observer, whose measuring capacity is entirely inadequate to the demand made by 
such magnitudes. One cannot believe the distance to be more than a mile as the crow flies, 
before descending the wall or attempting some other form of inchworm measurement. Mere 
brain knowledge counts for little against the illusion under which the organ of vision is doomed 
here to labor. That red clitf upon your right, fading through brown, yellow and gray to white 
at the top, is taller thai\ the Washington monument. The Auditorium in Chicago would not 
cover one-half its jierpendicular span. Yet it does not greatly impress you. You idly toss a 



10 




HEAD OF THE HANCE TRAIL. 



pebble toward it, and are surprised tliat your aim fell short. Sub- 
sequently you learn that the cliff is a good half mile distant. If 
you care for an al^iding sense of its true proportions, go over to the 
trail that begins beside its summit and clamber down to its base and 
back. You will return some hours later, and with a decided respect 
for a small Grand Canon cliff. Relatively it is insignificant ; in that 
sense your first estimate was correct. Were Vulcan to cast it bodily 
into the chasm directly beneath your feet, it would pass for a bowlder, 
if indeed it were discoverable to the unaided eye. Yet the imme- 
diate chasm itself is only the 
first step of a long terrace that 
leads down to the innermost 
gorge and the river. Roll a 
heavy stone to the rim and let 
it go. It falls slieer the height 
of a church or an Eiffel Tower, 
according to your position, and 
explodes like a bomb on a pro- 
jecting ledge. If, happily, any 
considerable fragments remain, 
they bound onward like elastic 
balls, leaping in wild parabola 
from point to point, snapping 
trees like straws, bursting, crash- 
ing, thundering down until they 
make a last plunge over the 
brink of a void, and then there 
comes languidly up the cliff 
sides a faint, distant roar, and 
your bowlder that had with- 
stood the buffets of centuries lies 
scattered as wide as Wycliffe's 
ashes, although the final frag- 
ment has lodged only a little 
way, so to speak, below the 
rim. Su(;h performances are fre- 
quently given in these amphi- 
theaters without human aid, by 
the mere undermining of the 
rain, or perhaps it is here that 

Sisyphus rehearses his unending task. Often in the silence of night a tremendous fragment 
may be heard crashing from terrace to terrace like shocks of thunder jseal. 

The spectacle is so symmetrical, and so completely excludes the outside world and its 
accustomed standards, it is with difficulty one can acquire any notion of its immensity. Were 
it half as deep, half as broad, it would be no less bewildering, so utterly does it baffle human 
grasp. Something may l)e gleaned from the account given by geologists. What is known to 
them as the Grand Caiion District lies principally in northwestern Arizona, its length from 
northwest to southeast in a straight line being about 180 miles, its width 125 miles, and its total 




THE STAGE TERMINUS. 



area some 15,000 square miles. Its northerly l)egiiining, at the high iilateaus in southern Utah, 
is a series of terraces, many miles broad, dropping like a stairway step by step to successively 
lower geological formations, until in Arizona the platform is reached which borders the real 
chasm and extends southward beyond far into the central part of that territory. It is the theory 
of geologists that 10,000 feet of strata have been swept by erosion from the surface of this 
entire platform, whose present uppermost formation is the Carboniferous ; the deduction being 
based upon the fact that the missing Permian, Mesozoic and Tertiary formations, which belong 
above this Carboniferous in the series, are found in their place at the beginning of the northern 
terraces referred to. The theory is fortified by many evidences sui^plied by examination of the 
district, where, more than anywhere else, mother earth has laid bare the seci-ets of her girl- 
hood. The climax in this extraordinary example of erosion is, of course, the chasm of the Grand 
Cafion proi^er, which, were the missing strata restored to the adjacent plateau, would l)e ir),000 
feet deep. The layman is apt to stigmatize such an assertion as a vagary of theorists, and until 
the argument has been heard it does seem incredible that water should have carved such a 
trough in solid rock. Briefly, the whole region appears to have been reijcatedly lifted and 
submerged, both under the ocean and mider a fresh-water sea, and during the period of the last 
upheaval the river cut its gorge. Existing as the drainage system of a vast territory, it had the 
right of way, and as the plateau deliberately rose before the px'essure of the internal forces, 
slowh', as grind the mills of the gods, through a period not to be measured by years, the river 
kept its bed worn down to the level of erosion ; sawed its channel free, as the saw cuts the log 
that is thrust against it. Tributaries, tracealjle now <jnly by dry lateral gorges, and the gradual 
but no less effective jirocess of weathering, did the rest. 

Beginning on the plateau level on the Canon's brink, the order of the rock formations alcove 
the river, according to Captain Button, is as follows : 

1. Cherty limestone, 240 feet. 6. Red Wall limestone. 1,500 feet. 

3. Upper Aubrey lime.stone, 320 feet. 7. Lower Carboniferous sandstone, 550 feet. 

3. Cross-bedded sandstone, 380 feet. 8. Quartzite base of Carboniferous, 180 feet 

4. Lower Aubrey sandstone, 9.50 feet. 9. Archajan. 

5. Upper Red Wall sandstone, -400 feet. 

The total vertical depth is more than a mile. 



V. 

A PRACTICABLE way of descending the Canon wall is known to exist upon either side in but 
two or three places along its entire length. One of these, the Hance trail, begins within half 

a mile of the Canon camp, which point thus offers the remarkable combination of a magnifi- 
cent view from the rim and a feasible trail to the river. Only Ijy descending into the Canon can 
one arrive at anything like a comprehension of its proportions, and the descent cannot be too 
urgently commended to every visitor Avho possesses a stout heart and good lungs. It is destined 
to become more famous than the ascent of the Alps. 

For the first two miles the Hance tiail is a sort of Jacob's ladder, zigzagging at an unrelenting 
pitch down a steep and nearly uniform decline caused by a sliding geological fault and centuries 
of frost and rain. It is safe and practicable for pack animals and for sound pedestrians ; ladies 
have occasionally made the descent, but at present it necessitates too hurried a scramble in places 
to attempt it confidently on horseback. At the end of two miles a comparatively gentle slope is 
reached, known as the First Level, some 2,500 feet below the rim ; that is to say — for such figures 
have to be impre.ssed olyectively ujion the mind — five times the height of St. Peter's, the Pyramid 




LOOKING UP THE HANCE TRAIL. 



of Cheops, or the Strasburg Cathedral ; eight times the height of the Bartholdi Statue of Liberty; 
eleven times the height of Bunker Hill Monument. Looking back from this level the huge pic- 
turesque towers that border the rim shrink to pigmies and seem to crown a perpendicular wall, 
unattainably far in the sky. Yet less than one-half the descent has been made, and less than 
one-third the entire distance of tlie trail to the river accomplished. -For more than three miles 
now riding on horse or mule back is entirely practicable. Hance's Rock Cabin lies only a short 
distance ahead, where dinner and rest are to be had under the shade of cottonwoods l)y tlie side 
of a living spring. Further on, the trail continues down a widening gorge plentifully set with 
shrubs and spangled, in season, with the bloona of the yucca, prickly pear, primrose, marigold and 
a score of unfamiliar showy flowers, white, blue, red and yellow, suri^risingly fresh and vigorous 
above a dry, red, stony soil. Small lizards dart across the path — brown lizards, spotted lizards, 
striped lizards, lizards with tails of peacock blue — and an occasional horned toad scrambles out of 

the way. No other reptile 
is encountered. Soon the 
course of a clear rivulet is 
reached, whose windings 
are followed to the end. 
The red wall limestone 
gives place to dark-brown 
sandstone, whose perfectly 
horizontal strata rapidly 
rise above the head to prove 
the rate of descent along 
the ai^parently gentle de- 
cline. Overshadowed by 
this sandstone of chocolate 
hue tlie way grows gloomy 
and foreboding, and the 
gorge narrows greatly. The 
traveler stops a mojnent 
beneath a slanting clitf 500 
feet high, where there is 
an Indian grave and pot- 
tery scattered about. A 
gigantic niche has been 
worn in the face of this cavernous cliff, which, in recognition of its fancied Egyptian character, 
was named the Temple of Sett by the celebrated painter, Thomas Moran. A little beyond 
this temple it becomes necessary to abandon the animals. The river is still a mile and a half 
distant. The way narrows now to a mere notch, where two wagons could barely pass, and the 
granite begins to tower gloomily overhead, for we have dropped below the sandstone and have 
entered the archtean — a frowning black rock, streaked, veined and swirled with vivid red 
and white, smoothed and polished by the rivulet and beautiful as a mosaic. Obstacles are 
encountered in the form of steep interposing crags, past which the brook has found a way, but 
over which the pedestrian must claml:)er. After these lesser difficulties come sheer descents, Avhich 
at present are jjassed by the aid of roi:)es. The last considerable drop is a forty-foot bit by the 
side of a pretty cascade, where there are just enough irregularities in the wall to give toe-hold. 
The narrowed cleft becomes exceedingly wayward in its course, turning abruptly to right and left, 
and working down into twiliglit depths. It is very still. At every turn one looks to see the 

17 




AT THE ROCK CABIN. 



enilHiiu'hure upon the river, anticipating the sudden shock of the unintercej^ted roar of waters. 
When at last this is readied, over a final downward clamber, the traveler stands upon a sandy rift 
confronted by nearly vertical walls many hundred feet high, at whose base a black torrent 
pitches in a giddying onward slide that gives him momentarily the sensation of slipping into an 
abyss. 

With so little labor may one come to the Colorado Kiver in the heart of its most tremendous 
channel, and gaze ui)on a sight that heretofore has had fewer witnesses than have the wilds of 
Africa. Dwarfed l)y such prodigious mountain shores, which rise immediately from the water at 
an angle that would deny footing to a mountain sheep, it is not easy to estimate confidently the 
width and volume of the river. Choked by the stubborn granite at this point, its width is prob- 
ably between two hundred and fifty and three hundred feet, its velocity fifteen miles an hour, and 
its volume and turmoil equal to the Whirlpool Eapids of Niagara. Its rise in time of heavy rain 
is rapid and appalling, for the walls shed almost instantly all the water that falls upon them. 
Drift is lodged in the crevices thirty feet overhead. For only a few hundred yards is the tortuous 
stream visible, but its effect upon the senses is perhaps the gi-eater for that reason. Issuing as 
from a mountain side, it slides with oily smoothness for a space and suddenly breaks into violent 
waves that comb back against the current and shoot unexpectedly here and there, while tlie 
volume sways tide-like from side to side, and long curling breakers form and hold their outline 
lengthwise of the shore, despite the seemingly irresistiljle velocity of the water. The river is 
laden with drift, huge tree trunks, which it losses like chips in its terrible play. 

Standing upon that shore one can barely credit Powell's achievement, in spite of its absolute 
authenticity. Never was a more magnificent self-reliance displayed than by the man who not 
only undertook the passage of Colorado River but won his way. And after viewing a fraction of 
the scene at close range, one cannot hold it to the discredit of three of his companions that they 
almndoned the undertaking not far below this point. The fact that those who persisted got 
through alive is hardly more astonishing than that any should have bad the hardihood to persist. 
For it could not have l)een alone the privation, tlie infinite toil, the unending suspense in constant 
menace of death that assaultfd their courage; these they had looked for; it was rather the 
unlifted gloom of those tartarean depths, the unspeakable horrors of an endless valley of the 
shadow of de. th, in which every step was irrevocable. 

Returning to the spot where the animals were abandoned, camp is made for the night. Next 
morning the way is retraced. Not the most fervid pictures of a poet's fancy could transcend the 
glories then revealed in the depths of the Caiion ; inky shadows, pale gildings of lofty spires, 
golden splendors of sun beating full on fa(;ades of red and yellow, ol)scurations of distant peaks 
by veils of transient shower, glimpses of white towers half drowned in purple haze, suffusions of 
rosy light blended in refiection from a hundred tinted walls. Caught up to exalted emotional 
heights the beholder Ijecomes unmindful of fatigue. He mounts on wings. He drives the c-hariot 
of the sun. 

VI. 

HAVING returned to the plateau, it will be found that the descent into the Caiion has 
bestowed a sense of intimacy that almost amounts to a mental grasp of the scene. The 
imposing Temple of Sett will be recognized after close scrutiny in a just determinable pen- 
stroke of detail. A memorably gorgeous 01ym})ian height that dominated everything for the 
space of a mile Avill be seen to be nothing more than the perpendicular front of the Red Wall 
limestone, topped up and away by retreating sunnuits, hidden from below, that reduce it now 
to the unimportance of a mere girdle. The verdant, tlowered expanse of notable ruggedness 




IN THH GRANITE. 




>^^ 



^■' 



below the Eock Cabin will l)o 
discoverable in a small smooth 
patch of marly hue. The ter- 
rific deeps that part the walls of 
hundreds of castles and turrets 
of mountainous bulk will be 
apprehended mainly through 
the memory of ujnvard looks 
from the bottom, while towers 
and obstructions and yawning 
fissures that were deemed events 
of the trail will be wholly indis- 
tinguishable, altliough they are 
known to lie somewhere flat 
beneath the eye. The compara- 
tive insignificance of what are 
termed grand sights in other 
parts of the world is now clearly 
revealed. Twenty Yosemites 
might lie unperceived anywhere 
below. Niagara, that Mecca of 

marvel seekers, would not here L- u-l 

possess the dignity of a trout 
stream. Your companion, stand- 
ing at a short distance on the • ■ 
verge, is an insect to the eye. 

Still such particulars cannot long hold the 
attention, for the panorama is the real over- 
mastering charm. It is never twice the same. Although 
you think you have spelt out every temple and ])eak and 
escarjiment, as the angle of sunlight changes there begins 
a ghostly advance of colossal forms from the farther side, 
and what you had taken to be the ultimate wall is seen 
to be made up of still other isolated sculptures, revealed now for .^•. 

the first time by silhouetting shadows. The scene incessantly « 

changes, flushing and fading, advancing into crystalline clearness, •-. 

retiring into slumberous haze. Should it chance to have rained heavily 
in the night, next morning the Canon is completely filled with fog. As 

the sun mounts, the curtain of mist suddenly breaks into cloud fleeces, on the trail. 

and while you gaze these fleeces rise and dissipate, leaving the Caiion 

bare. At once around the bases of the lowest cliffs white puffs begin to appear, creating a 
scene of unparalleled beauty as their dazzling cumuli swell and rise and their number multi- 
plies, until once more they overflow the rim, and it is as if you stood upon some land's end 
looking down upon a forndess void. Then quickly comes the complete dissipation, and again 
the marshalling in the depths, the upward advance, the total suffusion and the speedy vanishing, 
repeated over and over until the warm walls have expelled their saturation. 

Long may the visitor loiter upon the rim, powerless to shake loose from the charm, tire- 
lessly intent upon the silent transformations until the sun is low in the west. Then the Caiion 

21 




sinks into mysterious piirplu shadow, the far Shinumo .Vltur is tipped with a golden ray, and 
against a leaden horizon the long line of the Echo Cliffs reflects a soft brilliance of indescribable 
beauty, a light that, elsewhere, surely never was on sea or land. Then darkness falls, and 
should there Ije a moon, the scene in part revives in silver light, a thousand spectral forms 
projected from inscrutable gloom ; dreams of mountains, as in their sleep they brood on things 
eternal. 

Note. — Improvements of the Hance trail are now in rapid progress, with the object of enabling visitors to make 
the entire descent to the river on horseback, and another trail, three miles west of Hance's, gives promise of a 
similar exemption from the fatigues which hitherto have attended the undertaking. 




A GRAND CANON CAMPFIRE. 



22 



CLIFF DWELLINGS. 



At several points upon 
the rim of the Grand Canon, 
botli east and west of the 
stage terminus, tlie razed 
walls of ancient stone dwell- 
ings may be seen. They 
are situated ujson the verge 
of the precipice, in one in- 
stance crowning an out- 
standing tower that is con- 
nected with the main wall 
by only a narrow saddle, 
and protected on every 
other hand by the per- 
pendicular depths of the 
Canon. The world iloes not 
contain another fortress so 
triumphantly invulnerable 
to primitive warfare, nor 
a dwelling-place that can 
equal it in sublimity. It 
will be found upon one of 
the salients of Point IMoran. 

Scattered southward over the plateau, other ruins of similar 
character have been found. Perfect specimens of pottery and other 
domestic utensils have been exhumed in small number, and the rich 
and varied archteological collections that have so recently rewarded 
systematic examination of prehistoric ruins in other parts of the 
country, whose treasures were thought to have been exhausted, 
would seem to warrant careful search of this region, where the 
known ruins have been but superficially examined, and doubtless 
many more await discovery. 

The most famous grouj), and the largest aggregation, is found in 
Walnut Canon, eight miles southeast from Flagstaff. This caiion is 

several hundred feet deep and some three miles long, Avith steep terraced walls of limestone. 
Along the shelving ten-aces, under beetling projections of the strata, are scores of these quaint 
abodes. The larger are divided into four or five compartments by cemented walls, many parts of 
which are still intact. It is believed that these ancient peojsle customarily dwelt upon the plateau 
above, retiring to their fortifications when attacked by an enemy. 




CLIFF DWELLINGS — POIIsIT MORAIJ 




25 



CAVE DWELLINGS. 

Nine miles froin Flagstafi', and only half a mile from the stage road to the Grand 
Canon, thes<e remarkable ruins are to be seen, upon the summit and farther side of an extinct 
crater whose slopes are buried deep in black and red graveldike cinder. The Caves, so-called, 
were the vent holes of the volcano in tlie time of the eruptions of lava and ashes that have so 
plentifully covered the region for many miles about — countless ragged caverns opening directly 
under foot and leading by murky windings to unknown deeps in the earth's crust. Many are 
simple pot-holes a few yards in depth, their subterranean leads choked up and concealed. Others 
yawn black, like burrows of huge beasts of prey. In many instances they are surrounded by 
loose stone walls, parts of which are standing just as when their singular inhabitants peered 
through their crevices at an approaching foe. Broken pottery abounds, scattered in small frag- 
ments like a talus to the very foot of the hill. The character of the pottery is similar to that 
found in the Cliff Dwellings, and it is probable that the Cave Dwellers and the Cliff Dwellers 
were the same people. The coarser vessels are simply glazed, or roughly corrugated ; the smaller 
ones are decorated by regular indentations, in imitation of the scales of the i-attlesnake, or painted 
in black and white geometrical designs. 

Inferentiallj^ these mysterious people, like the Cliff Dwellers, were of the same stock as the 
Pueblo Indians of our day. How long ago they dwelt here cannot be surmised, save roughly from 
the appearance of extreme age that characterizes many of the ruins, and the absence of native 
traditions concerning them. Tlieir ace has been estimated at fron) six to eight hundred vears. 




CAVE DWELLING, NEAR FLAGSTAFF. 



25 



"''Willi 

















CLIFF DWELLINGS, NEAR FLAGSTAFF. 



SAN FRANCISCO PEAKS. 

These magnificent peaks, visible from every part of tlie country witliin a radius of a Inindred 
miles, lie just north of Flatrstafl". They are four in number, but form one mountain. From Flag- 
staff a road has recently been constructed to one of the peaks, Mt. Humphrey, whose summit is 
12,750 feet above sea-level. It is a good mountain road, and the entire distance from Flagstaff is 
only about ten miles. The trip to the summit and back is easily made in one day. 

]Mr. A. Doyle, of Flagstaff, is the owner of the trail to Humphrey's Peak, and acts as guide 
when desired. He provides the necessary equipment, including his own services, at a reasonable 
cost. Independent arrangements may be made if desired, but in that case toll is charged for use 
of the trail. 

The summit of Mt. Humphrey affords one of the noblest of mountain views, the panorama 
including the north wall of the Grand Canon, the Painted Desert, the Moqui villages, the Super- 
stition Mountains near Phuenix, many lakes, and far glimpses over a wide circle. 



COST OF A TRIP TO THE GRAND CANON, STAGE 
SCHEDULE, HOTELS, ETC. 

The stage fare from Flagstaff to the Grand Cafion and return is $20.00. Stage tickets may be 
purchased on arrival at Flagstaff, or special railroad tickets, bearing stage coupon, may be 
obtained by the tourist. In the latter case a reduction is made in the railroad fare from the 
principal points at which such tickets are sold. 

The stage leaves Flagstaff for the Grand Canon after breakfast every Monday, Wednesday 
and Friday morning, except during the winter months, returning Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday 
mornings. Thu office of E. S. Wilcox, manager of the Grand Canon Stage Line Comi)any, is con- 
veniently situated on the dej^ot platform, and visitors will find it to their advantage to apply to 
him immediately upon arrival and secure stage accommodations. 

The price of lunch en route is 50 cents, and of meals at the Caiion camp $1.00 each, which 
latter is also the price of lodging in the comfortable tents provided at the Cation. The lunch 
station en route is Cedar Ranch, a point midway. 

Camping outfits, i)ack animals, saddle horses, guides, rough clothing, stout shoes and general 
supplies can be procured at the Caiion camp by parties who desire to descend the Hance Trail or 
make excursions along the rim. 

There are several hotels in Flagstaff, and visitors to the Grand Caiion who may chance to 
arrive in town between the regular stage runs, as scheduled above, will have no difficulty in 
spending time agreeably in the interim. In addition to the San Francisco Peaks and the Clitf and 
Cave Dwellings, Fisher's Tanks and the Bottomless Pits may be reached by a short and agreeable 
drive, and fifteen miles to the south, in Oak Creek Caiion, there is really excellent trout fishing. 



29 






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PLiAT^EAO 



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Flag>^taff is situated on tlie Atlantic and Pacitie Raihoad, a division of the tlirongli California 
Jine of the Santa Ft'' Koute. 

Special tickets to the (Irand Canon, containing stage coupon, are sold at reduced rates by 
agents of the Santa Fe Route, and by agents of connecting lines, in the principal cities of the 
United States. 

Inipiiries as to cost of tickets, time of trains, etc., njay he addressed to agents of the Santa Fe 
Route, or to W. F. White, Passenger Trattic ^Manager, 72o INIonadnock Building, Chicago, Illinois. 



31 










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LIBRftKY OF CONGRESS 



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